


War, War, War!

by Bixels



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Action, Agent 24, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Lesbians, War AU, inklings - Freeform, octolings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-01-15 06:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18493486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bixels/pseuds/Bixels
Summary: Two soldiers, completely opposite in every way imaginable, from race to army to ink color, caught in a never-ending war... What's that saying about blooming love and battlefields?





	1. An Accidental Infiltration

It was hot. Sweltering hot. Three guessed a nice, comfortable 32 degrees celsius in the sun. The gentle summer breeze carried the wails of cicadas through the forest. But this wasn’t a nice walk in the woods. Far from it.

 

At Point Okanawa, the 1st Splatoon had managed to push past the halfway mark. The battlefield, plastered with inkling green would soon be joined with octoling magenta as reinforcements arrived. First it was the missile fire of Octostrikers, then it was the calvary. As a part of the roller division, it was Three's responsibility to lead the charge and face the enemy head on. A few Octarians were splattered, but it didn’t take long for the inklings to become overwhelmed by the onslaught of octolings. A messy, chaotic retreat was made as the roller division swam for their life through the diminishing green. A runaway flooder cut Three off from her division and chased her into the forest. Then, a squad of octolings mobilized through the woods, eliminating any stragglers who were separated as well.

 

Three was lucky enough to evade the sweep, but now she was neck-deep in the middle of nowhere. The Splatoon’s radio signal was blocked, meaning she was in Octo territory. Exhausted from the heat, Three collapsed against a log and took a swig from her canteen, wiping the sweat from her forehead. As she screwed the cap back on, a distant rumble broke the momentary peace. It grew louder, and louder, and louder, until the noise became unbearable. Diving behind the log, Three readed her blaster, scanning for a source of that rumbling. Through the dense trees and foliage, something… grey and metallic lumbered along. Three vaulted over her hiding spot and crept closer and closer. A clearing revealed a dirt road, carrying a behemoth of a machine. Gaudy spikes and antennas sprang from the thing, capped with purple blinking lights. Three huffed in frustration. Yet another Octarian war machine. A new one too; she’d never seen anything like it. A convoy of humvees and a few Octarians surrounded the monster in a little military parade.

 

Three’s eyes followed its path and froze at the sight of an enormous facility. Large white blocks of buildings snuggled against a cliffside, surrounded by thick concrete walls. But none of that mattered to Three; only one thing caught her eye: a satellite tower. At that height, radio signals are muddled. The Splatoon’s line is probably kept open as well for interceptions of wayward chatter.

 

But how to get in without being seen? The solution presented itself when the behemoth suddenly groaned and shuddered, its little legs failing and buckling, causing the whole thing to collapse to the ground. Garbled shouts filled the summer air as the convoy came to a halt. Three watched an engineer ran out of a humvee to open a panel on the behemoth’s side. Smoke poured out; must be a prototype. The engineer ran off for their tools and Three took her chance. While the guards idled in exhausted boredom, Three bolted out of the thicket and towards the behemoth, turning into her squid-form before diving into the belly of the beast.

 

It was mostly mechanical, thank cod. The smoke had cleared out as well. Three squeezed as much of her body into a nook, praying that her green skin would be masked by the interior’s purple glow. The engineer poked their head back in and tinkered with the machine; nothing Three would be able to understand anyways. With a twist and a zap, the behemoth shuddered back to life and the engineer yelled something in Octoling, closing and locking the panel and shutting Three inside. She began to doubt her plan.

 

As the behemoth rose to its feet once more, Three felt something... throb against her. She peeked at whatever she had crammed herself again. Rippling magenta flesh pushed against her body. Three recoiled in disgust and sighed. The Octarians’ biomechanical abominations were freaks of nature made for war and nothing else. Three couldn’t think of anything more sickening and sad.

 

It wasn’t long until the behemoth stopped and fell back into slumber. Bangs and clangs echoed through its hull. Three nearly forgot to hide herself when the panel opened once more. Goggled engineers stuck their faces inside once again, chatting incoherently about what had gone wrong. Three slipped out of the cranny as soon as she heard their footsteps disappear. Flopping onto the floor, the roller expanded back into her humanoid form, sweating profusely. With her larger build, it was hard for Three to hold squid form without any ink.

 

She was in a hangar of some sort, no doubt in the facility. No time to dawdle. Three run from the behemoth and to the hangar door, peeking out from its wall. Searing sunshine blinded her, but she could still make out the satellite tower ahead of her. That’s when she heard a voice.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Three froze and slowly turned. The confronter was an octoling, visibly nervous and completely unarmed. Perfect. Without hesitation, Three delivered a silent splat bomb to her feet. The octoling yelped in surprise ( _“not exactly in character_ ,” thought Three) and kicked the ticking time bomb away from her and out of the hangar.

 

It exploded.

 

Every Octarian looked.

 

Three ran.

 

Alarms rang, sirens screeched, Octarians scrambled for their weapons. By the time Three reached the tower, nearly every Octarian on site was after her, with that idiot octoling in pursuit. The inkling scrambled up the ladder, planting every sticky mine she had along the posts, covering it with green ink.

 

After a harrowing climb, Three reached the platform and waved her antenna into the sky, scremaing into her radio, “This is Officer Three of the first Splatoon, does anyone read me!?”

 

Magenta ink replaced the green on the ladder.

 

_“Krrsh… krrsh… We r--ead you loud and clear Three. Setting up a beacon for recovery.”_

 

Three reached for her tablet. The beacon was just in range, thank cod.

 

“Wait!”

 

Three froze and saw the same octoling staring at her at the end of the ladder. She wasn’t making a run for her; she didn’t even had a weapon. _“Gold eyes.”_ That was the only thing that ran through Three’s mind as she flattened against the hot metal floor and blasted into the air, soaring towards the recovery team’s beacon.

  

* * *

 

Three entered Captain’s office and stood at attention with a salute. “At ease. Take a seat,” the old Cuttlefish spoke. Three did so.

 

“What a bold stunt you pulled, eh? Sneakin' into a secret enemy weapons base, alertin' all the guards, makin' a mad dash to escape,” Captain mused, “like something out of a movie...”

 

“Did you call me in just to describe what happened?” Three was still pretty tense.

 

Captain just chuckled. “You know, we’ve been tryin' to find that facility for a while.” He pulled out a thin file labeled ‘Kamabo.’ "All we know is it was originally some sort of factory or warehouse, retrofitted as a weapons facility” Three rifled through the file’s only page.

 

The roller girl nodded slowly before looking up.

 

Captain cleared his throat. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but we’d like to send you back. Collect some information, sneak around, let us know what the Octarians have in store for us, eh?”

 

Three nodded again, this time even slower. “I’m not the stealthiest person. And they've seen me. Why not send an agent?”

 

“Our surplus of agents has turned into a scarcity," Captain sighed. Three recalled hearing about the MANTLE mission disaster. “And if you snuck in once, you can sneak in again.” Captain reached across to take Three’s blistered hand in his own, gently squeezing it. “I wouldn’t usually risk my best officer, but times are desperate.”

 

Rather unprofessional for a military captain, but Three couldn’t help but faintly smile. She and Captain always had a bond. Of course, she’d never admit it, but she saw the old Cuttlefish as a father figure, something she lacked for the majority of her life. She can’t say no to the Captain, and she most certainly can’t say no to a mission.

 

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

 

* * *

   

The lockdown dissipated as soon as it was confirmed there weren’t any other inklings in the facility. A runner found Eight alone at the cafeteria. “Orders from the top. The Admiral wants to speak to you. Phone #3.”

 

Eight nodded quickly and ran to her designated phone booth. Picking up the receiver from its hook, she pressed the button to resume its call.

 

 _“Auwae. Auwae. [RESUMING CALL]_ Private Eight. This is Admiral Octavio.” Eight nearly saluted on instinct. “Describe the agent to me. Now.”

 

Eight opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “F–female, green tentacles, tall and large, in a roller division’s uniform.”

 

The line fell silent for a bit. “Strange. Why would Cuttlefish send a roller… No matter. You’re the only one who got a clear look at the agent. I bet my suckers that old man’ll send her again. You’ll be leading the search for her when he does.”

 

Eight nodded shakily. “Y–yes, sir.”

 

Another pause. “Show no mercy, and don’t fail me. _Click. [CALL OFFLINE]. _Auwae_. _Auwae_ …” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fanfiction, so apologies if it's not that good. Feedback is much appreciated! My Tumblr is bixels.tumblr.com.


	2. Duel of Duality

“Hardly a promotion.”

 

“Did I say it was a promotion?” Three shot back.

 

Four sighed, “Well, I’d be happy to start planning your funeral now. What kinda casket do you want? Oak? Ooh, what about Mahogany?”

 

The roller responded with an eye roll. Her “friend” had little to no faith in the mission. And honestly, neither did Three. But that’s not an agent’s attitude. An agent doesn’t get caught up in her doubts and fears about the mission. An agent keeps her eye on the goal and carries out her duty.

 

Friend was in quotation marks due to the fact that, simply put, Three didn’t see Four as her friend. The pest of a private insisted on following her around, chiming in with her loud mouth on whatever she wanted, sharing a bunk with her, and occasionally stealing Three’s rations. Maybe that’s what a friend is. Three doesn’t really know.

 

“It’s just a quick in-and-out job.” Three clipped her vest around her chest.

  
“Yeah, into a highly dangerous Octo weapons facility.”

 

Three glowered at Four, who was lucky to be on the top bunk and out of reach. “Would you shut up? This is supposed to be covert. Top secret. I should’ve even told you.”

  

Four waggled her finger, “Then it’s your fault for telling me, isn’t it?”

 

“I suppose it is.”

 

Three went through all her gear: helmet, mines, camera, grenades, pistol, canteen, rations, ink tank, radio, tablet, roller, and her new agent uniform. Good thing for the girl’s size and strength; any lesser inkling would buckle under the sheer weight.

  

“Why’re you bringing your roller? That thing doesn’t exactly scream “stealth,” Four gestured towards the giant weapon strapped to Three’s back.

 

Three shrugged. “It suits me the best. And I know how to control it.”

  

“Whatever.”

 

With everything accounted for, the ex-roller, now-agent made for the door of the barracks. “I should be back by tomorrow.”

 

“If you survive.”

 

“... If I survive.”

 

* * *

 

The chopper brought Three as close as they could to Okanawa Point. The field was still under Octo-occupation, so any closer would alert the enemy. It was a difficult hike through the woods. Three could barely make out her previous path under the moonlight shining through the canopy. But finally, that same dirt road came into view. And so Three waited. And waited…

 

It was about an hour until something happened. Exactly what Three was waiting for. A scheduled convoy came rumbling down the road in a line of humvees. With precise timing, Three bowled a curling bomb into the road. The little thing slid right under an upcoming humvee, exploding against its underbelly. To the passengers and driver, it was just a bump in the road; to Three, it was her ticket in.

 

Using a similar trick as before, Three ran out into the road and, before she could be spotted, transformed into squid form and slid underneath, jumping into her green ink stain and clinging onto a pipe.

 

The humvee came to a stop at the gate. Security checked the interior, the back, and the top, but not the bottom. Three’s second infiltration was a success.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, a particular Octoling was making her last routine check. Octoshot? Check. Nightstick? Check. Taser? Check. Radio? Check. Flashlight? Check. Overseer uniform? Check. Handcuffs? Check. Keys? … Shoot, where are the ke–

  

“Eight!” 

 

The octoling snapped into attention, but relaxed when she saw it was just another private.

 

“Captain wants you to start making your rounds now.”

  

With a nod, Eight went on through the halls of the facility, shining her beam at every shadow and dark spot. It was about 3AM. Well before the rest of the facility got up and running. And way too early for poor Eight; she’d been up all night, unable to fall asleep, her mind racing about that inkling. Will she see her again? And if she does, what will she do?

  

* * *

  

Three managed to evade detection and find a ventilation shaft. Smearing the sides with ink from her tank, she swam up and through the ducts. The air flow would evaporate the ink over time.

  

Through the grates, Three found herself in hangar after hangar with enormous machines and monsters housed and asleep. With her camera, Three snapped pictures of any and every she could find. It was 5AM now. Almost sunrise and Three’s cue to leave. Unfortunately for her, she was lost. Her Hansel-and-Gretel ink trail out already dried up, leaving her in the dark. Plus, she’d been holding squid form for an extremely long time. This was bad.

  

Then, while hopping over a grate, Three found herself unable to contain herself. Grunting profane curses, the girl expanded into her humanoid form and broke the grate, falling through. Fortunately, she landed on something soft. Unfortunately, it was alive.

 

* * *

 

Eight was so tired, it wasn’t her fault! Yes, she was neglecting her duties as overseer, but an overseer needs rest sometimes. Luckily, she knew the perfect storage room to get a wink of sleep; there weren’t any security cameras, thus, no one to catch and interrupt her.

 

Well, that’s what Eight thought. Her slumber was cut short when something extremely heavy fell on her. Fortunately, it didn’t kill her. Unfortunately, it was alive.

 

Whatever it was, it bolted off her real quick. Eight was just conscious enough to dodge a splat of ink. Green ink. With a gasp, Eight rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was that inkling! The admiral was right! Wait, what’s she doing with that pistol?

 

Eight dodged another barrage of corrosive green. “W–Wait, I just wanna talk!” she yelled. But no dice, the girl wasn’t listening. A solid splat of ink burned against the Octolings shoulder. Whipping out her nightstick, she side-stepped enemy fire and swept at the inkling’s leg, but she didn’t budge. One fell swipe from her stick knocked the pistol out of her hand. The agent responded with a grab to the collar and a slam against the wall. Dazed and out of breath, Eight saw the inkling reeling back to punch the tentacles off her. Unclipping her taser, the girl barely had time to press the probes against her attacker’s side and squeeze its button. A hearty zap knocked the wind out of the inkling, giving Eight the opening to place one foot against her stomach and kick her away.

 

The agent fell into a pile of boxes and, before she could move, was met face-to-face with the barrel-end of an octoshot, dripping with magenta ink.

 

* * *

  

 _“Gold eyes.”_ It’s her again. She must’ve gotten a hell of a lot smarter, because this Octo knows how to a pick a fight.

 

“Just splat me,” Three spat. But the Octoling refused.

  

“No! I can't kill you! You’re my only hope out of here!”


	3. A Reluctant Allegiance

Three blanked. Completely blanked. “I’m your what?”

  

“My only hope out!” Eight repeated, “I can’t stay here. Not after my entire squad got killed.”

 

When an Inkling or Octoling gets splatted, their souls exits their ink puddles and are given about a day to wander to the nearest respawn well and take shape once again. If their time is up, the soul evaporates into the air. Bases and barracks always have a designated well, so there’s no worry there. But if one gets splatted on the battlefield, it’s unlikely their soul will ever regain corporeality. Their only chance is if their side sets up an well there, but it’s unlikely due to its massive requirement of power.

  

Eight’s squad was on patrol when they were ambushed. One-by-one, the Octolings bursted into a tiny purple stains, until all that was left was Eight. The girl was tenacious and fended off the attackers before backup arrived, but the damage was done. With her squadmates’ souls roaming aimlessly in the forest, they were as good as gone. And Eight wasn’t gonna stick around to join them.

  

“Please, you gotta take me with you,” Eight begged, putting her hands together. 

 

 _“What kind of tactic is this?”_ pondered Three. Well, if the Octo wanted to splat her, she would have. There’s no reason for her to lie about deserting. Three huffed. Deserting. How cowardly, to abandon your own people like that. Even as an invertebrate, Three expected this girl to have more of a spine.

  

“I have no reason to help you, especially in running away. You should’ve splatted me when you had the chance.” Three pushed Eight away and reached for her tank for more ink to use to climb back into the vent but… Shit, no more ink. No ink puddles around either. Three sighed. This mission keeps getting better and better.

  

She’ll just have to stealth it. As Three was reaching for the door out, Eight broke out of her moping and yelled, “No wait, don’t!”

 

Shoving aside Three, she took her place at the door as it opened. A passing Octoling spotted Eight. She clicked her tongue, “You shouldn’t be sleeping in there, Eight. Next time I catch you, I’m reporting you, y’hear?” And then she was gone.

 

Eight sighed in relief and shut the door. “It’s passed five. That’s when we’re all waking up. This place is gonna be littered with Octarians, so you can’t just stick your head out like that! Look, I can help you escape, but in return, you have to let me come with you.”

 

Three was about to shoot something back when the door opened, flooding the dark storage room with light. In a split-second reaction, Eight snagged her handcuffs and swiftly cuffed Three.

 

“Private Eight, what are you doing in here?” said the Octoling at the door. Eight gulped; he was a major! “And is tha–”

 

“I HAVE APPREHENDED THE INKLING AGENT, SIR!” Eight straightened out as stiff as a board and saluted.

  

“Ah, good work. Make sure you deliver her to holding.”

 

“YES SIR.”

 

And with that, the major left. Three’s grimace calmed. “You didn’t have to scream in my ear.”

  

“Sorry, I get kinda loud when I’m scared,” Eight mumbled.

 

“Also, handcuffs aren’t usually shared.”

  

Looking down, Eight realized her mistake. She’d somehow cuffed her and Three together! Somehow.

 

“I hope this is part of your plan of escape, or else I’m splatting you right here and getting the hell out myself.”

 

“Don’t worry,” the private assured, “They think I’ve caught you, so just follow my lead.”

 

The two slipped out of the storage room, Eight assuming her best “act natural” march with an unenthusiastic Three in tow, an octoshot pressed against her side. Every so often, Eight would throw in a “Move along, Inkling,” or “Hurry up, scum,” as privates and corporals passed by. Each would glance at Three with a look of awe, shock, or hatred, and then down at their wrists with a look of utter confusion.

  

“Your plan better not be to just waltz out of the gate,” Three muttered.

 

“I’m working on it!” Eight snapped back.

  

They were now outside, and nearing the front gate.

  

Eight whispered, “Ok, we’ll make a break for it when I give you my mark.” She didn’t work on it.

 

“You can’t be serious,” Three huffed, “Everyone’s watching us and we’re too far from the gate. They’d shoot us down before we get anywhere near it.” And Three was not in the mood to die alongside some moron Octoling.

  

“Well do you have any better ideas?”

  

“Yes.” With that, Three promptly pulled out her pistol and held it up to Eight’s head. Every Octarian in the vicinity snapped to attention and readied their weapons.

 

“Don’t shoot, or the private gets it!” Three buried the muzzle in said private’s tentacles.

 

The captain walked out onto the white lot and looked at his soldiers. “What are you doing just sitting there?” he motioned towards them, “Shoot her.”

 

Three paled. “Well shit.” Seems like she overestimated the Octarians’ regard for Eight’s life. It looks like they were going with Eight’s plan. Like before, a barrage of pink blotted out the sun and Three made a break for it, this time with a useless hostage dragged behind by her heels. Splotches of ink hit Eight harmlessly, but Three had to work to dodge them, flinging poor Eight to and fro behind her. A thick glob landed square on Three’s back, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain as it burned into her skin.

 

The gate closed in front of Three. The agent thanked the gatekeeper with a deadly shot to the face, exploding ink all over the controls. With the gate in her reach, she turned into squid-form and easily slipped through the steel bars, but her mad dash was abruptly stopped. Three looked back to see Eight still on the other side, with the Octarian army closing in.

 

"What the hell are you standing there for!? Isn't this what you wanted!?" Three yelled.

 

“What are you waiting for, Eight? Do your job and shoot her!” Her captain cried. Eight looked down at her octoshot, locked and loaded. Then at Three, tugging furiously at the cuffs, desperate for escape. Then back at her own kind, taking aim and ready to fire. And finally, her overseer, staring her down. There was no turning back now. With her golden eyes trained on her superior, Eight melted into a sludge of magenta and flew through the bars, down the road, and into the forest.


	4. Mirror Match

Sticks, leaves, and branches whipped the pair, leaving scratch marks all over Eight’s skin. Birds fluttered, cicadas paused, and in the distance, the faint yelling of angry Octorians and a blaring alarm filled the air as the escapees fled the scene.

 

The shut gate and its busted controls managed to slow down the Octarian grunts, but it didn’t stop the Octoling guards from slipping through the bars and hunting them down. Eight could barely keep up with Three, but the growing gurgles and cries of the encroaching guards kept the pep in her step. But these Octolings knew the forest better than either of them. Before she could even catch her breath, Three found herself facing three Octolings emerging from the thicket, their eyes masked by cold, pin-point goggles.

 

Three whipped out her roller, its frame flipping out with a flick of the wrist, and held it out like a sword. There was only enough ink in the cotton for one swing, so she’d better make it count. The triplet lunged at Three and, with one precise stroke, the agent flung the bulky weapon into the air and launched a wave of green directly into the pursuers’ faces, tossing Eight like a ragdoll in the process. The three exploded mid-air before they could even get a single shot out.

 

“Behind you!” Eight gasped.

 

Over her shoulder, Three spotted the glow of goggles in the brush as a splat bomb bounced to her feet. The girl gave it an unimpressed kick and reeled back, holding the massive paint roller above her head. With one fell swoop, she brought her weapon’s bone-dry head down. The Octoling squashed to a pancake underneath it before popping like a balloon. Eight watched breathlessly as her soul departed the remaining ink splotch.

 

The forest breeze carried the whirs of Octarian vehicles. “Let’s move,” ordered Three. Eight nodded in agreement and took off away from the facility.

 

* * *

 

“Stop, please… I need a break…” panted Eight.

  
Three, who was sweating bullets as well, obliged and stopped, allowing her partner to collapse against a log. They’d been on the run for about three hours and had avoided further confrontation. After taking a gulp from her canteen, Three reached for her radio to contact base for retrieval only to find… it wasn’t there. She frantically patted herself up and down, but found nothing. She must’ve dropped it during their escape. With a slew of curses, the agent sat down next to Eight.

 

“Now’d be a good a time to uncuff us.” Three nodded at the handcuffs, which had become quite uncomfortable. Especially for Eight, who was tired of being dragged and battered around by the larger girl.

 

“Right! Keys… keys… keys…” The Octo felt around her belt. “Oh… I forgot the keys…”

 

Three didn’t even want to respond. All she could manage was a sharp, exasperated sigh. “Awesome. Fucking awesome. I have no way to contact base, I’m getting hunted down by the entire Octo army, and I’m stuck with… you.” She gave the girl next to her an unsavory look.

 

“Hey, don’t give me that,” Eight pouted, “You’re the one who decided to let me come.”   
  
“Yeah, only because you were stopping me from escaping and,” Three shot up her sore wrist and pointed at it, “We’re handcuffed together, dumbass.”

 

“Rude! You shouldn’t call people that!”   
  
“You’re not people, you’re an Octoling, and right now, you’re also dead weight to me.”

 

“Oh yeah!? Well what’s stopping me from splatting you right here, right now?” Eight whipped out her octoshot and pointed its barrel at Three.

 

“What’s stopping me from doing the same!?” Three mirrored her action. Well, she was out of ammo. But she wasn’t about to admit defeat!

 

“Jeez, you two are loud,” groaned a new voice. Eight let out a scream and nearly jumped off her seat while Three spun around, pistol at the ready.

 

“Whoa, whoa, cool your jets, girlie, we’re on the same side!”

 

What Three saw had to be the shortest Inkling soldier she’d ever seen; she was about eye-level with her while sitting, with cream, pink-tipped little tentacles and a real shiny forehead. “And who the hell are you?”

 

“Corporal Hime Houzuki. Butchu’ can call me Pearl,” the little Corporal held out a hand, “I hate formalities.”

 

“Agent Three. Ex-Roller Division.” The agent begrudgingly lowered her weapon and shook her hand. 

 

Pearl whistled, “From the 1st Splatoon, huh? You’re a long way from base.” That’s when she noticed Eight, who had managed to keep silent this whole time.

  
“Yo… the hell’s an Octo doin’ with you–”

 

“Pearlie,” another voice came from the bushes, “You can’t just run off like that.”

 

A much taller girl emerged, dressed in a private’s uniform with a semi-automatic brella-shot in her hands. Her chocolate tentacles were much longer than her friend’s, tapering at the end with mint green. She seemed completely opposite, from skin color to demeanor to… race. Three gave Pearl an  _ “I could ask you the same” _ look.

 

“Are these the two making all that noise?” the new Octoling mused, joining alongside her partner as she scanned over the girls. Her eyes stopped at Eight. “Deserter?” She asked simply. Eight nodded wordlessly, transfixed by what she was seeing. An Octoling in Inkling colors working with an Inkling soldier… The very concept of it...

 

The older Octoling gave a sympathetic sigh. “I’m private Marine Iida. Call me Marina.”

 

“What’s your situation?” asked Three.

 

Pearl shrugged, “It’s a long story. I found ‘Rina while on patrol. Took her back to base. In return for all her info, she’d be able to stay with us. Next thing I knew, I was paired up with her. Somethin’ about keepin’ an eye on our new Octoling recruit. We were making our way to Kilwa when we heard you guys yellin’ up a storm.”

 

Meanwhile, Marina was busying herself with Eight, kneeling in front of her. “May I?” Her hand was hovering over Eight’s ankle. The girl gave another nod. 

 

“Pearlie saved me. If it weren’t for her, I’d be a goner; any other Inkling would’ve splatted me without question. I owe her everything.”

 

Pearl returned a lopsided smile and a faint blush. “Shit, ‘Rina. No need to get sappy on me.”

 

Feeling around the top of her heels ( _ “How was she able to run so fast in those?” _ Three wondered), Marina found a little yellow anklet stitched into the leather. She promptly ripped it out and snapped it in two before tossing the broken trinket into a nearby bush. “A tracker. Now they won’t be able to find you.” Marina smiled warmly. Eight smiled back; she’d never met such a kind Octoling before.

 

“2nd Splatoon, this is Corporal Pearl, I just found an agent from the 1st Splatoon out here in Nagaki Forest,” Pearl announced into her walkie-talkie. Incoherent, garbled chatter came from the speaker. “Gotcha.” The diminutive woman turned her attention to Three. “My base’ll contact yours, they’ll try to set up a rendezvous so you guys get picked up.”

 

After providing a puddle of ink for Three to resupply from, Pearl pulled out her tablet and showed Three a map of the area, pointing to a tiny spot on a hill, a little over a hundred kilometers from their current location. “I’ll arrange the pick-up to be here in about say… two days. It’s the nearest point that’s outside of Octo range.” She continued to motion towards areas all over, “That’s under Octo-occupation, so is that. They led a surprise attack this morning, so this entire field is theirs too.”

 

Marina and Eight idly listened to the briefing, but felt no pride for their own race. Only worry.

 

“You two’ll have to squeeze between these zones without getting caught,” Marina took the tablet from her partner. “Pearlie, your screen is so filthy. What happened?” She took a finger and scratched the surface, scraping off dried crust.

 

“I spilt some soup on it, no biggie.”

 

“No biggie? That could’ve damaged the electronics! Do you know how expensive these are?” Marina furrowed her brow and sighed. But unlike Three’s, it was laced with exasperated affection. “I worry about you too much, Corporal Houzuki.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing you look cute when you’re worried.” Pearl gave a cheeky wink, drawing out a minty blush from Marina.

 

Three nearly threw up on her own tablet as she copied Pearl’s info down. “If you two have nothing else of value to say, I’ll be taking my leave.” She looked down at Eight, still on the log. The two locked eyes. “Well, are you coming or not?”

 

With a surprised smile, Eight hopped off her seat and followed her partner.

 

“They should be able to take care of those cuffs back at base!” called Pearl with a wave, “Good luck!”

 

“And Eight.” Marina had walked up and put a hand on Eight’s shoulder. “You know what they’ll do to you if they capture you, right?” Her voice was full of concern.

 

Eight fell silent for a moment before pursing her lips and nodding. Marina took her hands in her own and gently squeezed them. “Stay safe, ok? I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

 

The two pairs went their opposite ways, Pearl and Marina to Kilwa and Three and Eight to the rendezvous.

 

* * *

 

With the gate opened again, the Octotroopers hurried out into the forest while the captain stayed behind. A full investigation on the break-in and escape was underway. The captain cursed and kicked away a nearby pebble. This was a disaster. A crisis. Not only did an agent manage to sneak in again, but she was able to gather vital information on the facility and escape along with a deserter. All under his watch. If word of this reached the top, he’d be as good as sushi. 

 

A runner approached him and saluted. “Captain! I found this near the gate.” In his hands was a Inkling radio receiver, a little busted up from its fall.

 

“Take it to the Commander, see if he can do anything with it.”

 

The runner saluted again and took off into the facility. After a moment, the captain sighed in relief. There was still hope for redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how the military works.


	5. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is a teensy bit of nudity. Nothing really NSFW, though.

Evening was settling in. The summer caidas were replaced by the chirping crickets. Wind rustled through the overgrowth, carrying the croaks of frogs and the calls of night-birds as the last rays of gold shone through the canopy.

 

Three and Eight stopped at a small clearing in the forest. They were nearly out of the woods, but as soon as they leave, they’d be out of the frying pan and into the fire. Fields of octo-camps would be surrounding them as they squeezed through to the rendezvous point. Without the cover of trees and bushes, the two wouldn’t stand a chance. But Three wouldn’t get anywhere with these tumultuous anxieties plaguing her thoughts. An agent doesn’t get caught up in her doubts and fears about the mission. An agent keeps her eye on the goal and carries out her duty.

 

So Three stayed silent as the pair gathered fallen branches and twigs into a pile to create a small campfire, enough to keep the both of them warm. The two sat in silence, staring at the flames.

 

“So… your name is also a number?” Eight broke the silence.

 

Three gave her a curious look.

 

“When we met Pearl and Marina, they both had regular names, but you only went by a number, Three."

 

Three nodded. “It’s… the only name I know.”

 

“I get that. I’m Eight. Actually, I’m Ten-thousand-and-eight, but it’s shorter if I just go with the ones digit.”

 

Three grunted in understanding. “So you’re the Ten-thousand-and-eighth…”

 

“... Octoling private,” Eight finished, “At least in the Eastern Curtain. Us Octarians are very organized and procedural when it comes to production. Only the highest ranking officers get real names. I guess it makes them seem more important than us.”

 

Three didn’t answer for a while. “My splatoon’s captain found me when I was a kid. Both parents died during an attack on my hometown. According to him, I couldn’t stop counting the number of stars on his uniform: three. The nickname stuck.”

 

Eight couldn’t tear her eyes away from Three’s eyes, filled a nostalgic warmth of the day she met her father figure and forlorn grief from the day she lost her family. Three broke from her thoughts and looked at Eight. Eight quickly shifted her own eyes away.

 

The adrenaline in Three had finally died down, its absence replaced by the force of a thousand splat bombs crashing down on her shoulders. She was sore as high hell, her equipment felt like weights and chains, and cod, that splat on her back was really starting to sting. With a groan, the inkling took off the enormous roller strapped to her back. The sudden removal of pressure only made the wound hurt even more, eliciting a sharp cry.

 

“Whoa, try not to move so much,” Eight scooted behind Three. The agent tensed up. She didn’t like having someone behind her, especially in such a vulnerable position. Eight gently prodded at the sticky purple splotch staining Three’s back, the ink harmlessly coloring her fingertip. “It’s a new type of ink we developed. Doesn’t dry and continuously burns into the target.” The roller rubbing up against the wound all day didn’t help either.

 

“You Octarians sure know how to make my life hell, huh?” Three growled.

 

Eight ignored her comment and took out a roll of bandages from her belt. “Take off your clothes.”

 

“E-excuse me?"

 

“Do you want me to fix you up or not?”

 

Three was about to object, but a sharp pang shooting up from her spine silenced her. Button by button, she unzipped her vest and tossed it aside. Then, reluctantly, she hooked her fingers around the bottom of her shirt and slowly pulled up. Inch by inch, she revealed a bubbling, goopy stain melting into her back. Then, even slower and more reluctantly, came Three’s sports bra. Three hugged at her chest and shivered, huddling into herself, sweat trickling down her forehead despite the cool night air.

 

Eight sat behind and examined Three, noting (and perhaps admiring) the wiry muscles and tendons stretching from her across her back, criss-crossed with old scars surrounding a painful splatter. “Does it hurt when I touch it?” Eight poked at the center.

 

Three reeled back and groaned, “What the hell do you think!?”

 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Eight got to work, taking a rag from Three’s pack, washing it in water from the canteen and some alcohol from her own belt, and dabbling it against her partner’s backside, washing and cleaning the wound. Three held back hisses and growls of pain, biting her bottom lip so hard she could taste her own ink.

 

Next came the awkward part. Ripping out the end of the roll, Eight stuck it to the underside of Three’s arm, above the splotch. She circled around and around her chest, making sure not to do anything or go anywhere that would make Three more uncomfortable than she already was, though the cuffs were making it quite difficult. While she worked, the octoling began to hum a tune. It was… somewhat familiar to Three. She couldn’t quite place it, but it took her mind off the matter at hand. The croaking of frogs, the chirping of crickets, the rustling of breeze, and the crackling of fire all disappeared. All Three could hear was Eight’s song.

 

“There, all done!” Eight was already washing off her hands.

 

Three snapped out of her trance and looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, a clean gauze wrap covered up her blotch tightly.

 

“It should dissipate and heal now.”

 

Three nodded while hastily throwing on her clothes again. She looked over her shoulder once again, but her eyes didn’t meet Eight’s.

 

“Thank you.”

 

It was barely audible, but those two words injected a rush of emotions into Eight. A rush she had never felt before.

 

And now, it was time to finally rest. “I’ll take first watch,” said Three, “You get some sleep.”

 

“No way, you’ve been awake for nearly two days. You need to rest.”

 

Under normal circumstances, Three would object to having an enemy of her people watch over her sleeping form. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

 

With a grumble, the Inkling scooched as far away as the handcuffs allowed and, without a goodnight or sweet-dreams, hunkered down into the grass, threw her hood over her tentacles, and instantly fell asleep.

 

Eight couldn’t help but smile.

 


End file.
